Rain and Rattling
by Galad Estel
Summary: It's Sherlock's first year at Hogwarts, and he has lots of questions for his big brother, Mycroft. Sherlock/Harry Potter crossover. Written for the QLC.


**AN: for Quiddich League Fanfiction**

 **Prompt: Crossover with a TV show -Sherlock**

The train rattles. It's loud, so loud. And the whistle is loud too, and the children screaming down the corridors are loud, and the prefects shouting to keep order are loud. Everything is loud here. Sherlock drops his head onto Mycroft's lap and curls into a ball.

'It's all right, Sherlock,' Mycroft says. He smoothes out Sherlock's fluffy hair. 'We'll get there soon enough. Why don't you nap until then?'

'I'm not a baby,' Sherlock says, peering up at him.

'Then quit acting like one.' Mycroft drops his hand to his side and presses his face against the wet pane.

Sherlock sits up and stares past Mycroft out the window. 'It looks like it's going to rain again.'

'Yes.'

'I was trying to talk to you about it.'

'Well, there really isn't any more for me to say, is there? If you wanted to start a conversation you should have provided a more open ended topic.'

Sherlock sucked on his bottom lip, thoughtfully. 'Do you think there is a God?'

'No.'

'Daddy thinks there is one.'

'That's because Daddy is deluded. God is a much a part of fiction as Father Christmas, though it is much older and more complex. People ascribe it to problems or solutions that they don't want to take blame, credit for. It's also a consolation, an unfounded hope that has kept many people from just quitting in life, so it has its place in society. However, since God has already been covered by many philosophers, I don't see why we have to talk about it.'

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'You never want to talk about anything.'

'That's because I've already thoroughly thought of everything you've ever brought up. It would be boring to go through it again.'

'But, Mikey – '

'Don't call me that. I hate that nickname.'

Sherlock sat in silence for a while, staring up at the ceiling of the compartment. It was clean and glowing. Sherlock had never seen a ceiling that glowed so much before. Perhaps, it was magic. The school they were going to was supposed to be. That was a strange idea to him. He had always thought that magic was just in the silly storybooks that children were supposed to read, but this seemed like a real thing. That or this trip was a stupidly expensive practical joke, but Mycroft wasn't stupid, and neither was their mother, so they wouldn't dump out money to create a fairy dream and then crush it. Unless, Mycroft just went to boarding school every year like they had said before, and now they were trying to dress up Hogwarts as magic, to make it more appealing to him, to trick him into going along easily. This made more sense, but either way, he would have to learn to live there.

'Mycroft?'

'Yes?'

'You said there were different houses. Do you think we'll be in the same house?'

Mycroft fidgeted in his seat. 'I hope not.'

'So you don't know. There are things you don't know, and I found one.'

'Stop being a brat.'

'I'm not being a brat. I'm just saying that you act like you know everything, but that's not entirely true, is it?'

'You'll be sorted into Ravenclaw, so not my house.'

'You're in Slytherin, right?'

'Yes.'

'What makes you think I'll be in Ravenclaw?'

'Because you're curious, and you want to know everything, and because you're not particularly brave, and you're not chivalrous, and you aren't patient, and you don't get along with others, and you don't really want power.'

'I want power.'

'No, you don't. You may think you do, but you don't. You would hate all the responsibility. It would tie you down.'

'I could live with that, if it meant being with you.'

'Don't be foolish, Sherlock. This is my last year. After this year, I will no longer be at school, so there is no reason for you to choose my house. You'll be happier in Ravenclaw.'

' _Will_ I?'

'Yes, that's what I just said.'

'But how do you know? Can you really be certain that I will like it there.'

'Sherlock…'

'What?'

'You're being ridiculous. You'll be in a house with likeminded people all striving for knowledge. How great is that?'

'But I'm annoying. How do you know _I_ won't be annoyed with people who are like me.'

Mycroft let out a heavy sigh. 'You're only annoying as most little brothers are. It has nothing to do with your goal to learn.'

Sherlock sighed. 'It's raining now.'

'Yes.'

'Do you think it will still be raining by the time we get there?'

'No.'

'Why not?'

'It's falling too fast, suggesting a shower. Also, I can tell by the clouds that…Sherlock, we are not talking about the rain.'

'Fine.' Sherlock folded his arms across the chest and kicked his foot against the bottom of the compartment. 'Do you think Mummy and Daddy were surprised?'

'About what?'

'About us being wizards.'

'No, not really. Daddy is one.'

'No, he isn't.'

'Yes, he is. He just doesn't practice magic because he is around muggles so much.'

'He never told me.'

'Well, you're little, what do you expect, Sherlock? Adults hate telling children things.'

'Why?'

'They think it will protect us.'

'You're seventeen, so you're an adult now in the Wizarding World, right?'

'Yes, I am.'

'Are you going to stop telling me things?'

'No, because I think that system is flawed. I believe telling the truth about a situation to a child will protect them better than pretending something bad doesn't exist. If you don't know about something you can't guard yourself against it, but actually, I recant the protection excuse for Daddy not telling you. I think he just thought you would blab it out to someone.'

'But I hate talking to people.'

'Yes, but you are still a child, Sherlock, and adults are programmed to think children are loose lipped.'

'That's not very nice.'

'No, but you actually do talk a lot.'

'Only to you.'

'Well, I wish you wouldn't. Now, look, I have to go to the front of the train, and you have to stay here.'

'Why?'

'Because I'm head boy, and I should have already gone up to the front, but I was settling you in.'

'I don't want you to go. Please stay with me, Mycroft. I'm scared.'

'You're going to be fine.' Mycroft got up and walked out of the compartment. 'I'll check on you in an hour, all right? Got to go.'

Sherlock curled back up on the seat, alone in the compartment. He closed his eyes and forced himself not to cry. Mycroft would be back in an hour, until then he would listen to the rattling train.


End file.
